


Lost At Sea (unfinished)

by midnighhts



Series: Fictober 2017 [9]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Drabble, F/M, Fictober 2017, Gen, Historical Fantasy, Kinda, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnighhts/pseuds/midnighhts
Summary: Even if he were unable to read, the message is clear: there is a man missing.DAY 10 PROMPT ISMERPEOPLE





	Lost At Sea (unfinished)

**Author's Note:**

> hewwwoooooooo  
> so this is NOT FINISHED but im posting bc i need at least Something™ to show for my work -- so here it is. it is a long AU that i am unable to complete now, so have a drabble.
> 
> notes at end for the explanation of whats supposed to be happening LMAO

The first thing Evan notices in the foggy morning is the piece of parchment stuck to the outside of his house. It wasn't the presence of it, really - though it may have had a hand in piquing his curiosity. Rather, it is the bright, red, slanted text that ultimately drags him in. The paper is soft with moisture as he plucks it off the wall.

Even if he were unable to read, the message is clear: there is a man missing. There is intent in the paper, a desperation only the foolish have to offer. To have hired a scribe or two to timelessly recreate a single photo of a lost man over and over again costs money -- money far too grand for any normal person.

There aren't many families on the island who can produce such output, or produce enough income to offer a two hundred piece reward. That kind of money can save lives, end lives, send him to a school in the city. That kind of money means someone important was lost.

Evan doesn't consider himself much of a hero; he's not a courageous knight, nor is he a fearless seaman. He's a boy who works for the town's bakery with his only friend and the woman he wishes (prays) to marry. No one is holding their breath in hopes the valiant Evan Hansen take upon this mission, and return men from danger.

He takes the parchment, and stuffs it into a pocket in his trousers. His father may have had a hero's name, but these things are best left to those with these kinds of responsibilities. He's just an errand boy for a struggling bakery, working with his closest friend, and staring at Zoe until she looks back at him, and he looks away before she could have caught him staring.

The bakery welcomes him, a friendly sight amidst the endless horizon of sea and dark houses. It's notably warmer indoors with the oven.

Jared is already there, hands deep into firewood and coal. He doesn't look up when Evan enters, but he does pause. “You're early.”

“Uh,” Evan starts - quite lamely, he might add - “It was empty in town today. Must be because--”

“There was a paper on the door,” Jared says. His voice echoes in the crackling firepit. “Could you believe what happened?”

“Yeah, uh--”

“I'd try looking for him, but I need to focus on the business.”

“Who--”

Jared stands straight. “I think l would use that gold to start a business with horses; get out of this damned bakery, finally.”

“Cool.”

Jared considers it for a moment, the concentration written on the dips on his forehead, brows pulled together. His eyes go somewhere, before they're back again, and he's blinking. Jared doesn't consider Evan -- just bends back down and throws more wood into the fire.

Evan sheds his overcoat. He'd throw it into the dusty corner, but Jared's is there before his, and he'd rather not have to deal with him complaining about all the sand clinging to the bottom. Instead, he lays it across a chair.

They work like that, mostly in silence. Jared's face is illuminated by the crackling flames, while Evan kneads dough with his whole body. People come in and out quickly. Everything is sold quickly and in great number, so Evan can only treat the bread with exaltation in hopes he can make more much quicker.

It's noon when they take a break. The sun filters through the windows, the morning cold washed away with daytime humidity.

“Where's Zoe?” Evan wonders aloud, his few words measured. He chews on his bread quietly, but the question hangs in the air even if Jared may deny actually listening to what he says.

Jared is eating his own meal: fish and a roasted vegetable. He doesn't share in the pile of uneaten, old bread. Though, he gives Evan a quizzing look -- like Evan is once again too slow in the uptake, and just said something idiotic, which wouldn't be the first time, which wouldn't be the last. Good thing the only other witnesses in Evan’s Great Fuck Up are the bags of flour and pile of misshapen rolls.

“Zoe would be quite busy today,” Jared says. He's got that sound, that little inflection and the lilt in his voice that makes it seem like a conspiracy. “As, you know, she would be.”

Evan doesn't meet Jared's eyes. If he could, he'd give his own quizzical look; but instead, he just continues to stare at his bread and the oil he's dipping it into. He doesn't get it, and there's no way to say “I'm sorry for being dense, but could you spell it out for me?” without sounding lame.

Jared just makes a rolling-his-eyes sound. It isn't something that makes a sound, but Evan hears it anyway. “Do you even know who is missing?”

Evan doesn't want to shake his head, because Jared has the You're An Idiot tone again. So, instead, he nods.

Jared, though, _knows_.

“Goddammit, Evan,” he says, annoyed in a very Jared fashion. He murmurs something under his breath but Evan doesn't catch it.  “Look, Connor Murphy has gone missing. That's why your girlfriend is missing today.”

“ _Jared_!” Evan half-whispers, half-screams. His cheeks are aflame.

He only rolls his eyes. “What if the Murphy kid were dead, you know?”

“Don't say that,” Evan chides though his tone is weak and still a little paranoid.

“I mean, he was last seen in the beach.” Jared is conspiratorial now, his scheming eyes blown larger by his glasses. “Maybe he just. . .took a dip?”

**Author's Note:**

> someone is missing  
> ba da bing, ba da boom, its connor Murphy. the whole seaside town is ablaze in gossip and conspiracy. some say he died, suicide even. some say he ran away as the degenerate Murphys have done in the past. some, though, believe the rocky structures on the beach is caused by a dark-haired boy with sad eyes and a fish tail.  
> evan hansen, simple baker boy, finds out the truth.


End file.
